What I Want
by ThatDamnHBKGirl
Summary: While the Game is away, Randy will play. Orton likes Shawn, but will Michaels notice? Slash. May be Rated M in later chapters.
1. The Beginning

**Title:** What I Want (Anything could happen)  
**Summary: **Same old, same old… Randy has feelings for Shawn, but will Shawn notice?  
**Warnings: **I suck at chapter stories, I always lose interest and then never update. But I have mostly everything set for this one,so... Oh and Slash  
**Notes: **Based on true events. …in my mind. Also, this is my first.. first person perspective fic. Whoo! Also.. im usually trying to be funny in fics, but with Randy, i still have to feel him out so this may be a more serious fic still.  
**Characters/Pairings: **Shawnie and Randal. Maybe more added in later

Beaded sweat steadily washed the filmy layer of the remaining oil slicking my body as I sat down on the bench. I felt kinda gross, yet I wouldn't move until my opponent came back thought the curtain as well, until I was sure he was fine. Had to be sure.

I stared down at my reflection in the title I was holding, searching something I couldn't find.

We weren't the best of friends, no, that wasn't my territory. Although I wished we were. To call myself a close friend of his would be a dream. Not to say that i didn't like him...no, i was afraid of really liking him. I always kind of… envied him, especially when I was a lanky, acne ridden, aspiring, young wrestler. He was the man that went out there and got things done, the man that made the women swoon, the man that went out each night, and did whatever he could to make sure everyone got their money's worth.

_I wanted to be him._

"Good job out there, kid."

My eyes shot up from the heavy piece of gold in my hands to the warm face calling my attention. I had been staring at it so long, my eyes were blurred. Clearing them, my lips automatically curved to see him standing before me. "To be the man, I guess I gotta job to the man, eh?"

His eyes crinkled at the corners, the reaction I was hoping to ease out of him. "Yeesh, I heard you were an ego maniac, but I didn't think I'd catch you back here, checking yourself out in the title."

I glanced down at the title, _my_ title, still in my hands. I could feel the glinting diamonds that John Cena had put on during his reign, dance across my face with the light. "If I said that it's not what it looks like, would you believe me?"

Shawn chuckled quietly. "No, probably not. You're a good-looking kid anyways, kinda….remind me of me. Ha." He chuckled again, my heart fluttered at his words. "Anyways, I just wanted to make sure I didn't get cha too hard, did I? With the kick, I mean. Sometimes I get carried away..."

I laughed internally. _He_ was checking up on _me._ "No, no not at all, the kick just got a little close-"

"Oh wow I got you good…" he shuffled over to my spot on the bench, my eyes catching the stiffness in his posture. His own crystal eyes were hard, running down the features of my face. He paused at the small, light-violet mark, staining my skin just below my cheekbone, a frown creasing his forehead. "Randy, next time I get cha that hard, just gimme a stiff…lemme know when I'm too excited! Really, I'm like a five year old, high on sugar cookies when that adrenaline flows though me."

"Don't worry 'bout it, Shawn. I'm WWE Champion, I get paid good money to get banged up. It's kinda in the job description." I paused to steal a glance behind his back. "You should know. How is it?"

"How is… what?" he looked at me with false blank eyes.

I rolled my own. "Your back, _nimrod._"

"Ouch!" His face contorted. "You can't steal my words and use them against me! Not fair. I call gimmick infringement!"

"Oh shut up, lemme see," I leaned over quickly, before he could object, and pressed my finger tips lightly to the small of his exposed back. I felt him stiffen underneath me, the sun kissed, warm skin contracting as he groan.

I wanted that mental image to stay in my mind forever.

"You're more sore than you should be."

"Call NASA, I think I just found Einstein."

"It's not funny," I muttered.

_I wanted him to be safe._

Shawn readjusted his position on the bench to face me. "Kid, I've been wrestling for 20 years. I know pain, we're frequent acquaintances. Besides, what did you just say? 'It's kinda in the job description,' that's the perfect way to put it." He folded his arms across his chest, finalizing the end of the argument. I pursed my lips, knowing my place as a young blood to the veteran sitting in front of me.

I sighed, knowing there was nothing I could do. And it bothered me. It shouldn't- I had known many in pain, and yet I looked at them all as _they're just wrestlers, it's how it should be…_ So why was Shawn different? Why was he always different?

I couldn't say he wasn't ruggedly handsome, even in his forties. It shone out from him, weather he liked it or not. Even sitting there, he was sight, him, staring at me with those defiant, those _beautiful_ eyes, every muscle lining his frame bulging from the previous exertion that just took place, his wild, tangled hair curled behind his ears, and how the trails of sweat made his chest hair all point downwards, as if inviting…

"Earth to Randy? My eyes are up here, big boy!" Shawn's laugh pieced through my thoughts, and I could feel my face begin to burn as my eyes resumed the locked position on his.

"Sorry, I was…distracted."

I felt Shawn clamp his hand down on my shoulder, soothing. "I know how hard it is to be champ… tiring, right?"

"Yeah… I can't seem to focus." Especially with him still touching me.

_I wanted him to keep touching me. _

He smiled warmly, lifting his hand off seemingly reading my thoughts. "Well you ought to be going, then. We had a long, physical match today." I nodded in agreement. "What hotel are you staying at?"

"The Hilton, down the street," I replied, and my heart's tempo increased when I saw his eyes flash at my reply.

"Me too! The best deserve the best, eh?"

"Right."

"So…" he jerked his head to the exit. "Need a ride there?"

"W-well.." I stammered, wondering about my own car. I could pick it up tomorrow.. its not everyday that Shawn Michaels offers you a ride.

"I got a motorcycle."

My head jerked up painfully fast, searching Shawn's grinning face. A motorcycle? Me, holding Shawn's waist while his hair flowed around me, painstakingly close to him…

Shawn bounced on his toes, impatiently waiting for a response. "Is that a...no..?"

"Yes!" I choked out, finding the words, willing myself to calm down. Shawn was straight, as far as I knew. Then again, as far as anyone knew, I was straight, too.

Anything could happen.

Shawn's giggles brought me back to the present. "Hello, Randy?"

"Yeah, sorry," I muttered again. "I was thinking."

I flinched as he grabbed my shoulder again. "You think too much! Stop it."

"Einsteins have to think, Shawn. It's in our nature. Now go call NASA, I think I just thought up a new formula, that could save the world."

"Oh, yeah? What's that?"

"Me plus you plus motorcycle equals hotel. Hotel equals bed, which is the exponent of sleep, and add them all up, you get happy Randy." I grinned cockily. It was true... add Shawn in anywhere and you get happy Randy.

"You lost me after the first plus."

"Get your ass on the way to the bike." I said, shaking my head.

Shawn cracked a laugh, turning towards the locker rooms. "Gotta change first, hold on. You can meet me out there, it's the one with the HBK license plate."

"And you say _I'm_ the egomaniac. Sure." Another resounding laugh echoed from the locker room as I passed it, shrugging on my jacket. I kept my eyes down on my feet, forcing myself to not peek in to see what exactly he was changing at the moment. What was wrong with me?

I pushed the doors open, the warm spring air slamming into my face. I stopped and inhaled, the scent making me all the more peaceful. This night couldn't get any better. I glanced around for his bike. I smiled when I found it, and that the seat cushion also said "HBK" with his arm tattoo of the heart printed on it. I chuckled softly to myself, hearing the doors close, knowing Shawn was approaching by the sound of his gait.

"Uh oh," he started, looking between me and the seat a few paces away. "Uhm…would you believe me if I said this isn't what it looks like?"

"No, probably not." I flashed a half smile before turning my attention back to the bike. "So… how do we do this?"

He stared at me blankly. "Don't tell me you never done this?" I returned his blank look. "Oh my goodness…I take back my preivous Einstein comment."

"Well jeeze, Shawn, just make me feel like a complete loser!" I fake cried, jutting my chin down to my chest like a dejected 5 year old.

"Awww, there there, don't cry. I'll buy you a ice cream cone on the way, okay?"

"Yaay!" I threw my hands in the air, squealing while Shawn laughed. I surprised myself, usually I was never this childish, even with Cena or Rhodes, or even Hunter.

"Well, just throw your leg over like this-" he swung his leg over the seat. "And grab on to me real tight; I like to go fast." Blood pounded in my ears at the words, rising only when he promptly raised one eyebrow before pulling a bandana off the handlebars and wrapping it around his head.

Damn sexy.

I jumped on the bike behind him, pleased when the slanted end of the seat caused me to lean into him more. I locked my hands firmly around him, reveling in the feeling of his chest rising and falling beneath my arms. I was just tall enough to lay my chin on the top of his bandana covered head, the scent of his hair put my body in ecstasy. I took another mental picture.

"Hold on tight, Cowboy Jr.," He repeated, a wide grin taking up his face, vibrating underneath me as the engine roared to life. I suppressed a rising moan.

_I want him._


	2. The Ice Cream Fiasco

The ride is torn between complete heaven and hell for me.

On one side, I'm riding on the back of Shawn Michaels', in my opinion, the most beautiful man in the locker room, motorcycle. His loose hair not restrained by the bandana was licking my face in the wind, the smell of it making my eyes flutter. My arms are locked around his muscular frame, the only thing separating us is a thin wife beater, and I wish I wouldn't ever have to let go.

On the other hand, at each stop light, the bike will pause, vibrating underneath us, under the man I slightly lust for, and controlling myself is becoming a harder task to accomplish. So easy would it be for me to just burry my face in his neck and kiss the deliciously sun kissed, exposed skin there… and so easy would it be for him to reach back and smack me a good one and make me walk to the hotel myself. And probably never talk to him again.

I shuddered subconsciously. I wouldn't mess this up.

I rested my head on his shoulder, sighing. I _was_ tired. Being champ, I was wrestling up to four days a week, the other three days, I was traveling or working out. Lonely life.

My eyes were starting to drift away when the engine was cut. I felt Shawn shift around my arms, and I unwillingly let him free. I sat back, yawning, and looked around for the first time. This wasn't the hotel… "Shawn, where are we?"

He swiveled around in his seat, an excited grin on his face. "The ice cream parlor! I told ya I'd get ya some, remember?" He swung his leg over the seat and began walking to the little shop.

Oh… shit. I stared after him for a moment, hoping this wasn't happening, then leaped off the bike. "Wait, Shawn, wait! Gah…" I jogged to catch up to him, spinning him around to face me, the grin still etched on his perfect face. "Shawn, I-"

"Don't worry about it," He interrupted, raising his hand to shush me. "I heard you're a penny pincher. I'll pay for everything, okay? My treat."

"No, Shawn, you don't understand-" But we were already through the door and at the counter, Shawn's attention no longer on me, but glued to the glass that held the delicious dairy confections.

"So many to choose, look at that! Rocky Road, ohh, frozen yogurt! I love the strawberry kind…superman, ohhh double fudge…_oh, my goodness,"_ He breathed. "Chocolate chip cookie dough! Oh, I want that!" He pointed frantically at the glass, as the lady behind the counter stared at the forty year old man that desperately wanted his ice cream fix to be filled. I shook my head at her, smiling.

"Crazy ole feller, ain't he?" I flashed one of my Randy Orton signature smirks, and she giggled while scooping out Shawn's order. He looked up from the beautiful process of the scooping to see her still staring at me. A knowing grin was growing on his face.

"Ooooooooo," Shawn muttered under his breath, nudging me playfully in the ribs. "She likey you…you likey her-"

"No, I don't," I muttered back quickly, my face feeling hot. I likey'd someone in this room, but not the chick…

"Sure, whatever," He nudged me again before turning back to the counter where the girl was staring expectantly. "So, then, what do you want?"

"No, I really shouldn't…" I trailed off, caught off guard by Shawn's suddenly solemn face. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just… if you don't get one, I'll feel weird eating one by myself. You don't want me to feel like a fat loser, do you?" His lip started to tremble childishly.

My mouth hung open a second. It yearned to tell him that he wasn't fat at all, but was very sexily fit, and it yearned to tell him I didn't want one for physique purposes, but that I was lactose intolerant… but his face crushed me.

"Vanilla," I muttered out a moment later, taking bitter sweet pleasure in Shawn's brightened face. I'd pay for this later.

Minutes later, we walked out the store, Shawn empty handed, me with half a cone left. He eyed the cone with confusion. "Don't you like ice cream?"

"Yeah," I lied. "I'm just…full." Another lie. I could feel my stomach start to bubble angrily inside me for my stupid decisions already. I hope we get to the hotel soon. Really soon. As we walked by the trash, I chucked my cone in it, attempting to be inconspicuous. I don't think he noticed. Well, he did notice something.

"Randy, are you okay? You look a little pale," Shawn stopped me by my arm abruptly, making my stomach spin more, concern lacing his bright eyes. I know that might change to hurt if I tell him I neglected my body's wishes.

For him.

"No, no, I'm fine," I struggled to conceal a grimace as my stomach twisted again. "Can we just get back to the hotel? Please?"

He eyed me for a long moment as the pain intensified. "Okay…hop on, kid."

I jumped on before Shawn, while he still stared at me, a little more confused. He revved up the engine and took off, as I squeezed his middle tightly. I didn't have anytime to enjoy this length, because it was taking all my concentration to not hurl on Shawn's back.  
Five minutes later, we were at the hotel. Not trying to alarm Shawn, whose prying eyes I could feel on the back of my head the whole time, I quickly unloaded my suit case and speed walked to the entrance. I threw the doors open and dashed to the counter, out of breath and the contents of my stomach ravaged my insides.

"Attendant? Attendant, where's the signer-inner person lady in this place, I need my card!" I groaned again. An old lady came shuffling slowly out from the back, and took the chair in front of the desk gingerly, and picked up a pen with feeble hands.

"Welcome to Hilton Hotels, name, sir?" She bored in monotone, sliding her glasses to the end of her nose... It was like something out of a bad movie.

"Ran…dy Ort-Orton, room 2…225, I need my ca- card key," I gasped in-between dry heaves. Sweat dotted my forehead for the second time tonight, and I groaned again as my stomach lurched.

She looked up for the first time tonight. "Sir, are you okay?"

"Yes, fine."

"Are you sure? I'm not so sure."

"Yes, just give me-"

"Because if you are _sick,_ sir," She droned. "Hilton Hotels doesn't want you to infect _all_ their fine residents here, at the Hilton Hotels-"

"Listen, you old hag," I growled through clenched teeth, losing my patience. "I'm having a reaction, an _allergic_ reaction, and if you don't give me my damn key card in five seconds, I'm _this close_ to throwing up all over you're clean little Hilton desk, your pricy Hilton carpets, and my favorite, _you,_ so hurry the hell up!"

She blinked, staring at me, then turned on her heels and walked back though the door without another hood. I gaped, my mouth hanging open…they couldn't do that, could they? I paid for my damn room already! I was shaking from fury and illness when I felt an arm on my shoulder, on the calmed me down instantly.

"You can stay in my room tonight," Shawn whispered in my ear. I wish I could soak up the moment that Shawn actually asked me to stay in his room, but I had other things in mind.

"Okay, thanks Shawn now can I please, please, please go to your bathroom I think, I know I'm gonna be sick," I spit out, already jogging to the stairwell, Shawn close on my tail.

Two flights of stairs and a sprint down the hallway later, I tore though Shawn's room as soon as he unlocked it, raced for the bathroom, and got to re-taste my ice cream as it came spilling out of my mouth. If there's one thing I hate more than an injury, its puking. I don't know how bulimics do it everyday.

Soon I was out of breath and panting, slumped against the wall. With weak, sweaty fingers, I flushed the toilet one last time and sighed heavily. Heaving the contents of your stomach through your mouth is tiring work, the spinning in my head was proof. And right now, this didn't seem like such a bad place to sleep, right here on the Hilton bathroom floor. I closed my eyes.

It seems like I just closed them when they were forced open by the sound of squealing. It took me a second to figure out it was coming from my mouth. It took me longer to figure out that my body was jerking around.

"Sorry," I heard the muttered reply, and the need to jerk was suddenly gone. "I didn't know you were ticklish."

I sat up quickly, propped up by my elbows, realizing for the first time I was on the bed, to see Shawn at my feet, one of my boots in his hands. He was staring down at it intensely, purposely not looking at me. "Are you okay, Shawn?"

"Oh yeah, just dandy." He snapped.

I stared at him. "Look…" I started out slowly. "If you're mad I just ralphed in your bathroom, I'm sorry. I'm well enough to go back down there and give that lady what's coming to her, get my room-"

"That's not it," He said shortly.

"Well….mind telling me what is?"

He continued to stare at the boot, eyebrows furrowed. I continued to stare, glad he was giving me a reason to stare at him, then shifted back and positioned myself against the pillows, closing my eyes again, and sighed. My head still hurts, and the ceiling seemed to be stirring before I made it go away. I moaned softly, turning on my side. I felt a movement in front of me, and my eyes snapped open to reveal Shawn just inches from my face. I gasped quietly, feeling his warm breath on my face. It was like a dream.

His eyes bore into mine for the longest time. I was too afraid to move, he was so close…dangerously close. Just an inch closer and I'd be able to taste him…

"Why don't I know you?" He whispered.

That took me by surprise. "Come again?" What'd he do, fall and knock his head when I wasn't looking?

He backed up a little. "I've wrestled you numerous times, you've been in the WWE for like, 6 years-"

"8 years," I murmured.  
"See? And yet I didn't even know you're lactose intolerant! And I _just _found out your ticklish!" He cried, pounding his fist into the mattress once, then threw his head onto his knees, which were pulled up to his chest. He really was as dramatic inside the ring as out.

I intertwined my fingers together, refraining from running my fingers through his waterfall of hair, running down his shoulder nearest to me. Focusing my attention back on him, I comforted, "Shh, shh, Shawn, calm down! It's fine. Its not like go around, parading those facts in the locker room. And I don't expect you to know how long I've been here…as a matter of fact, if you knew those things already, I might be a little scared of you, Shawn." I grinned, hoping it ease his unnecessary guilt.

I knocked playfully into his arm, but his head stayed firmly on his knees, facing the bed sheets. I stared at him, willing him to say anything, and finally gave up. I flopped myself back down, turned onto my side, and curled up in a little ball. I was sleeping right here tonight unless he kicked me off. Which very well may happen.

My eye lids were fluttering when I felt the bed dip as he laid down on the other side of the bed. It just occurred suddenly I was in bed with Shawn… My heart started racing. What if accidentally snuggle up to him while I'm sleeping? What if he figures out I like him? What if he never talks to me again?

"I think me and you," He said drowsily, slicing through my thoughts, "Need to hang out more. To get to know each other better, you know?"

I couldn't breathe. Is the hottest man back in that locker room, and the best wrestler to my knowledge that ever occupied it, really wanting to be my friend? To know me?

No one has done that since Hunter.

Eventually he turned over, probably thinking I fell sleep. His deep breathing filled the room, a lullaby to my ears. I turned over, facing him, the moonlight highlighting every feature of his face, making it glow. His hair was flowing freely down to his shoulders and chest, rising and falling with each soft breath.

"I'd love to, Shawn," I finally whispered back, before succumbing to slumber.


	3. Got To Know

_This is probably my weakest chapter yet, but i felt the need to post it anyways. I had an original frame for how i wanted this story to go, but i keep changing it, and im not sure yet weather its for better or for worse. Just let me know.. Constructive Critism is welcomed! And let me know if anything confuses you. =]_

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Waking up to hear Shawn singing his own theme song whilst in the shower was probably the most entertaining thing I've heard in a while. I wonder if that was a subtle way to wake me up- last time I heard "Sexy Boy," it wasn't a metal song, but somehow he managed to transform it into one.

"I make 'em feel, like they're on cloud nine, AHHHHH, SHAWN!"

"Ah, Shawn is right," I whispered to myself. "My ears…" He really does blow me away. I don't know it's that's always necessarily good. A yawn filled my lungs; I didn't sleep too well last night. Too afraid I might try something subconsciously on Shawn, I kept my hands locked together all night, the crescent shaped indents in my skin were evidence. As another yawn plagued me, I came to the conclusion I need coffee.

By the time I sat down with my cup full of dark coffee, Shawn still wasn't out of the bathroom. I had never got my shower after the match yesterday, and as I downed the dark liquid, the more alert I became to how amazingly gross I felt. I could just walk out the hotel and jump into the ocean across the street, but that'd be no fun without Shawn. We should do that later, if he really wants to hang out.

"Here comes the mon-ayyyy….money, money, money, here comes the mon-aayyy…ching ching!"

I chuckled at Shawn's latest tune, listening carefully for the many lyrical mistakes he had to offer. As the singing wore on, the water did too, and I could feel it getting to me a little. And the more I listened, the more it got to me, and then the coffee sunk in. Of course there's only one bathroom.

I jumped up when I couldn't take it anymore, running to the door, where I could hear Shawn had changed songs to "No Chance In Hell." I stood dancing at the door for a moment, sorry I had to break up his wonderful concert. "Shawn? Shawn!" I yelled, listening for a break in his performance for a better opportunity for him to hear me. But it was killer for my bladder to sit here and listen to the water steadily run… I groaned. "Shawn! Hey! Damn it!"

"No Cha- what?"

"I need to go to the bathroom!"

"Well that's a predicament."

I was torn between the urge to laugh or cry. "Dude…get out of the shower!"

"No chance…._in hell!_"

"Shawn," I groaned. "This isn't funny, I need to go bad!"

There was a slight pause. "Go out the window," He suggested.

I felt my jaw drop a little. "What? No! Weirdo!"

His laugh echoed through the tile walls as I heard the water cease. "I told that to Hunt once, and he actually did it! Eh, I'll be out in a second...hold on…oh, my…can the towels get any smaller? Cheap ass Hilton… Cover your eyes, young one, I'm coming out," his voice through the door got steadily stronger as he approached, the wet slap of his newly cleaned feet on the tile as the doorknob started to rotate. I mentally prepared myself so I wouldn't start to drool if he came out in a towel, but this, _this_ tiny of a towel I was _not_ expecting at all.

"Holy mother…" I breathed as he stepped out of the bathroom, backwards while closing the door. My eyes scrolled up and took in every detail of his skin, stretched tight over his strong calve muscles, scar indents at the back of his knees from multiple surgeries, the hair speckling his legs becoming thinner as the journey upwards continued, and the way too small white towel left practically nothing to the imagination, but still more than I wanted it to. The towel must have been one for hand drying and not bathing, but it's a mistake by Shawn I will easily forgive him for.

Picking off at the towel, where my eyes lingered at the precious outline of his round backside, his nicely tanned, back curved and the muscles plastered to the rotater cuff expanded and contracted as his arms finished pulling the door shut. He turned to me, smiling, then catching my gaze and the grin slowly faded. His face gradually mimicked mine, tinted red with embarrassment, as he tried to make the towel stretch to conceal more. He bit his lip, and, despite my mind yelling furiously at my ignorant eyes, we stared at each other, not a word passing between us.

His nervous laugh broke the silence. "You…have to use the bathroom? Or no?"

I swallowed, way too turned on for my own good, saying nothing as my eyes flickered to the floor, and I kept them there, briskly walking past Shawn and into the bathroom. I shut the door, leaning against it for support as I realized how obvious I'm being about my feelings. Shadows from the crack under the door told me Shawn hadn't moved, making my heart drop, had I just screwed everything up? I realized how bad I really did need to go again. Even after I flushed, the shadows where still here.

Damn, I'm stupid.

________________________________________________________________________________________

I took my shower, colder than I usually prefer it, but necessary after witnessing Shawn as I did. I stepped out of the shower, peering under the door to check if Shawn's feet where still there. They weren't.

I opened the cupboards under the sink, revealing full length towels, the ones meant for drying after a shower. Several of them were shoved under there, plenty for Shawn to have noticed if he looked. So, why the hell did he come out in the tiny one?

I took my time in there, not exactly wanting to come out yet. I dressed slowly, cargo shorts with my favorite green and white striped shirt from Hollister. I slicked up my bangs just a little, looking more like cocky Randy from 2005 than serious heel from 2009, but I wanted to look good today if Shawn really did want to hang out. If he still wanted to hang out, that is.

When I could find nothing else to alter about my appearance, I reluctantly stepped out of the bathroom, eyes scanning the suite for Shawn, half worried, half relieved I didn't see him at first.

"Shawn?" I called out, walking into his room.

"Over here." The echo told me I wasn't where he was. I walked the straight line from the bedroom to the kitchen, floored when I saw what Shawn was up to.

"You do…puzzles, Shawn?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You sound shocked."

I smiled. "More like mildly surprised. I just…never thought of you being a puzzle person, I suppose."

He plugged a few more pieces in, staying silent. I could tell he was preoccupied, but not with the puzzle, which only worried me more. I hung back, leaning against the wall, absentmindedly picking the nonexistent dirt from underneath them, hoping Shawn would say something as I sure as hell didn't want to. Did I really just f*** this up by staring at him too long? Could he detect the weirdness, the slight tension that I was sure was radiating off me whenever he was in close proximity of me? Should I just go?

"Are you gonna help or just stand there?" His quiet drawl broke my thoughts, and I jumped off the wall and took the seat next to him. He looked up from the puzzle, eyes searching, reading my face for a moment, before handing me a piece without a word and went back to the half-way down outline. I stared at the piece for a moment, looking at its curved edges, then at the outline. He did a pretty good job, but seemed to be over thinking everything. I reached over and placed the piece down, knowing before hand that it'd fit perfectly, and it did. He looked up, surprised shown in his face.

"I've been struggling with that piece for the last ten minutes, how did you do that so easily?"

"I used to do a lot of puzzles with my sisters and mother when my father was away," I explained. "He was away a lot. I guess I just got a little good at it."

"Obviously…well, well done, brother. Hunter used to do them a lot with me, he got me into them, actually." He smiled genuinely, for which I was happy. It took me a second to notice how half-hearted that smile was.

He scanned my apperance, looked down at the puzzle again. "You look nice. So…what are we doing today?"

"Uh…" How was I supposed to know the answer to that? Just a few minutes ago, I questioned weather I should leave. "Anywhere you want to go?"

His face brightened as he laid another piece down. "Ahh…well I have the next few days off, I can go many places. Do you?"

"Yeah, glad too. I didn't know Vince gave you time off, too." What luck!

"Kid, when you've worked in this business as long as I have, you don't _get_ time off, you _take_ time off!" He grinned, making me feel like I'm a rookie in the buisiness again. He jumped up from his chair, grabbing his keys. "C'mon, I'm hungry. Where do you wanna go?"

"Uhm…any place without a ton of dairy products?"

Shawn giggled. "Why? You don't enjoy throwing up? Golly, you're weird."

I rolled my eyes as I gathered my wallet, tailing Shawn out the door. Either he gets over things fast, he didn't notice, didn't care, or didn't mind my staring earlier. Either way, I wasn't about to complain. I was just glad things aren't weird between us. But when we got to whatever restaurant we were heading to, now on the stairs, I did have some questions I needed to ask Shawn. My mind was working furiously to figure out how to ask them as we approached the stair well door, Shawn humming a merry tune beside me.

I sighed as I stepped down the stairs, while he jumped down them three at a time, landing on the last one in a crouch, as though he was Spiderman or something before taking off to do the next flight of stairs. I think this dude has gotten one too many hits on the head. Poor guy. No no, poor _me._ I realized self-pity was setting in, but I didn't care. I'm a damn fool, following Shawn around like a love sick puppy, clinging to the hope that he might be like me, and might _like_ me, which is near to impossible. I mean, even if he was…_like me,_ he wouldn't want to be with me. He'd be with Kevin or Scott…or better yet, Hunter… yet I know he likes me at least as a friend, as I don't think he goes around, skipping while his hair tosses back and forth, singing The Sound Of Music's theme song to just anyone.

Or maybe he does, I don't know. He's quite strange, sometimes.

But I've got to know.

We got down to the first floor. I tried to hold it back, but as Shawn's hand reached for the door handle, it came up. "Why do you want to hang out with me?" I blurted out, hand on Shawn's shoulder to stop him.

He turned around, taken aback by the question. "What do you mean? I thought we were friends." His eyes furrowed.

"Yeah, but…" Ah, it was like a scene from Mean Girls. I could feel it, the word vomit coming up… "You never gave a shit about me before, and then all the sudden you care? You want to hang out? You let me sleep in your bed, Shawn. Why?" Shit, it sounded like I didn't want to hang with him…farthest from the truth.

He stayed silent, eyes searching my face. Not a sound could be heard in the stair well. I took a deep breath.

"Am I just Hunter's replacement for the time being?"

Shawn sucked in a deep breath, and I know I hit a nerve. I instantly regretted it, I know how much Shawn missed Hunter since his move to SmackDown!. But it was my first suspicion since that day backstage (was it really only yesterday?), and Shawn's eyes looking everywhere but me confirmed my worst fears.

I rocked on the balls of my feet, willing him to say something, an apology, and explaination, anything, but still, shill silence rang in my ears. With a frustrated snort escaping my lips, I brush past Shawn and headed for the door, only half surprised when his arm caught my bicep to stop me.

"Wait," Shawn said breathlessly, "Let me explain…I swear I'm not using you, come, sit…" he sat down on the stair, patting it, motioning for me to sit next to him. I stared at the spot, nostrils flaring, trying to calm myself down. Shawn may be dramatic, but I had a serious temper. But his pleading face made me reconsider leaving on the spot and going to find Cena to stay with for the night.

Should I stay or should I go?


	4. Denny's is Deadly

**Oh.. I was supposed to say this last chapter. The time frame of this fic is like, a month or a couple weeks before this years draft. Yeah lol. Like I said, I make this up as I go, so…. oh and i know y'all are gonna yell at me for the ending. for multiple reasons lol. im prepared. and iknow it sucks! im trying like mad to finish this chapter. i erased it and started over...4 times. uggghhhhsies. -.-**

Oh, and there is some language in this chapter. 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Please," Shawn pleaded, eyes shining. "I really do like you…'

I stared at the wall, trying to decode the enigma of my feelings. I wasn't really mad at him, I had kind of known it all along. Yet, as I stare at the uninteresting brick wall, my clenched hands shake. Though I had guessed it from the beginning, it didn't ease the pain pulsing through my body.

I could feel Shawn's eyes on me, glancing at my hands, then resting on my face. He sighed. "Okay then, if you want to do it from there, fine with me. Just don't leave during my story, okay? That'd be quite rude." My peripheral vision noticed his small smile, but his was the only face it was on.

"Okay then," Shawn repeated. I knew he wanted me to say something, but I wasn't going to give him that now. He had to work for it. Let's see how much he really likes me. "As you know… the 2008 draft was…unkind to me. I had told Vince I couldn't work on SmackDown, and he honored my wishes. But he took the next best thing away from me. My b-best friend." His voice cracked a little, and, although I wished to God it didn't, my heart did to. I felt the need to consol him, yet I felt a need to give the wall a brand new indent. I let out a deep, frustrated sigh.

Shawn continued, oblivious to my inner turmoil. "So I had tried to find someone else to hang out with…I tried Dave, and he was nice for awhile, but then he got hurt and left me. Tried Cena too, but…too much of a party-goer. I mean, hey, nothing wrong with a little liquor but that man can throw it down like Flair." He laughed a little then sniffled. "So, I just stopped looking. I could be alone. Or I thought so, anyways. I'm…I'm a person who needs constant affection." Yeah, like we couldn't see that on camera.

He paused for a bit, waiting to see if I said anything, then rolled his eyes when I didn't. "So, I mean we had that feud last year, and I thought we had good chemistry. I feel like your one of the only guys I can sit down and talk to whenever, about whatever, and you're honest about your feelings and opinions. Most other guys, I can tell, they just tell me what I want to hear. It's annoying, you know? So…I saw you sitting backstage, and it was just common courtesy to give you a ride, then lend you my room when you got sick. Last thing we need is for you to puke all over and have some jackass on a dirt sheet say that it was a result of mixing 'riods, eh?" He smiled again. I felt myself slack a little. He explained it nicely, so maybe it was really nothing.

He was silent again. I took my eyes off the wall, and slid them into focus with his, nodding a little. Let him know I understood.

"You're a good guy, Randy, remember that." He paused, thinking. "So…we're cool, then?"

I shifted my weight on my left side, feeling the right go numb. My flare of anger had cooled now, but I still felt the strange urge to make Shawn work for my attention yet. I raised my eyebrows, not one word escaping my lips yet, and looked away. I could almost feel Shawn tense again.

"You're still mad at me?"

I shook my head. "I'm fine." I monotoned.

Shawn mimicked my movement, bright locks bouncing to and from each shoulder. "Well…if you decide to join me, I'll be at the Denny's, across the street. Meet me there if you want…if not…" His voice trailed off and he stood up and closed the gap to the door, pulling it open in once swift flick of his wrists. He flashed me an unsure half smile, before walking out the door.

I let out a huge breath, shoulders slumping, throwing myself down on the last stair. I could feel the warmth left behind by Shawn radiating off my seat, and for some reason, that pleased me. The simple things in life, I guess.

I sat there, replaying the scene in my head. Maybe the whole "Make Shawn Work For It" plan wasn't as good as originally thought. Come to think of it, it was quite stupid. What if he leaves, thinking I really don't care?

I got up, pacing, him still in my mind, which was in a state of madness. I knew I liked Shawn, I have since I was about the age of twelve, but my true feelings for him were scaring me. He was nice, thoughtful, very understanding, genuine, and, of course, he was sexy…and I am a tall, lanky kid with confused morals and that over thinks everything. And I wanted him. I knew that for sure. But what if he didn't want me? What if this was strictly a friendship? I didn't even know If he's gay. And I cant just go up to him and ask him go out with me… it'd probably scare him off. I mean, we've only been hanging out for barely two days, and now I want to press him against the wall and claim him as mine?

That's screwed up.

I growled at myself, for my own stupidity, while I heaved myself up and threw the door open. I quietly jogging down the halls, turning blindly when I thought was appropriate. Shit…dead end… another stair way, ugh Hilton's is huge. I turned right on another stairway. Was it sad I didn't even know what floor I was on?

"Hey!" Whoa…I know that voice…that incredibly annoying voice… I stopped dead in my tracks. "Hey!" They repeated again, hearing the shuffling of tiny feet accompanying the raspy inhales that can only be produced by an elderly. I grimaced, glancing over to see the recognizable face of the lady I had once threatened to unload the contents of my stomach on. And as far as she was concerned, I was not supposed to be here without paying for another room.

I belted, leaving her and her little 'hey!'s in the dust. I officially hate the Hilton, it was like a fricken maze. Uggh… I ran for about five more minutes until I reached the main lobby, blowing past the door incase the elderly lady I now fondly call Dorothy, as I wish she'd get blown away by a tornado. Ugh.

Oxygen heaving from my lungs, I picked up speed as I neared the road, to make it across the nine-lane intersection, dodging a couple cars in the process as I made my way to the Denny's. In the back of my mind I wondered if I got hit, would Shawn visit me in the hospital. I think I'm going insane.

Reaching my destination, I stood outside Denny's, oxygen leaving my body in puffs, staring through the window, I could see Shawn sitting in the booth by himself, sipping a cup of coffee as he read the paper. Simple man, yet it was amazing how he could make such a simple task look so cute. As I bought my eyes out of focus of him, I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection.

I looked like _Hell,_ oh my God. How hadn't I seen this in the mirror this morning? Maybe I had too much on my mind. That's it. I grimaced as I pulled down the skin under my eyes, noting the slightly purple bags that rested there, and the paleness of my usually golden skin, both probably a caused from a lack of sleep and stress. My hair that I spent so much time on, my _masterpiece_ of nicely gelled, spiked hair, was now sticking out in all directions, no order present, from running here. And worst of all… somehow, I had gotten _mud_ on my shirt. Thick, brown mud peppered all over my shirt. This only further proved my point. Why would Shawn want me? I looked like a homeless man on steroids.

I inched closer to the window, hoping no one would see me, and treated it like a mirror, trying unsuccessfully to smooth down my unruly spikes. I glanced down, the mud on my shirt majorly bugging me. I may be a guy, but I wanted to be a clean guy. No wonder I'm bi. I spat on my finger and scrubbed it on my shirt, flaking the enemy soil off. After I got what I could off, I glanced back into the window to check my hair one last time. But my reflection is not all that I saw.

"What the hell," my eyes widened in surprise and disgust as I took in the sight of looking directly at a pair of tonsils. I blinked, realizing someone had their face, with their mouth wide open, plastered against the window at me, tongue flicking from side to side tauntingly as the condensation from their mouths fogged up the window. I felt my blood start to race as he continued, like seriously, what kind of childish, immature person would do that? I know I'm a heel and all, but this man looked to be older than the average 12 year old mark. And he was buffer. And had longer hair… Ah holy damn. It was Shawn. I sighed and shook my head as he changed tactics and did kissy faces at the window, pretending to smooth down his own imaginary spiked bangs mockingly.

"I'm so sexy… I'm Randy Orton! Boy Toy! Look at my hair! Mwah, mwah, mwah," He dotted the windows with a succession of small pecks to the glass, leaving a smear of lip marks behind. I don't think that's real sanitary, to be completely honest. And everyone was staring at me. With mud on my shirt. Shit.

I ran inside, seeking cover from the eyes of everyone peering out the window to see who was so damn sexy that a man had to shout about it, lightly punching Shawn in the side before sliding in the side of the booth opposite to him. He chuckled.

"Nice to see you could join me."

"How could I not?" I mumbled, staring down at the menu but not really reading anything.

Shawn bit his lower lip. "Well… I was afraid you wouldn't, actually. Um…yeah. Waitress? Another cup of coffee, please?" He coughed nervously, while waving his hand in the air to signal the nearest server. Why was he so anxious?

"Why don't we…" I said slowly, trying to show Shawn I did possess initiative for him, "Like, go out tonight? Not like that," I added quickly when he raised an eyebrow, "You said you wanted to hang out…like…on the town. Tonight."

"Well, what do you suggest? Oh, thank you." He smiled up at the waitress and she set down a large plate of eggs in front of him. My stomach ached as I eyed his fork, traveling repeatedly to his mouth and back to his plate, then to his mouth again. He paused from his shoveling long enough to shoot a glance at me. "Aren't you gonna eat?"

I wrinkled my nose as though I was seeing a tiger pounce on its prey before tearing it to shreds. "You call that eating? I call that inhaling."

Shawn, mouth full again, snorted at my last comment, as though _I_ was the ridiculous one, and stopped in mid-chuckle to cough. His eyes furrowed as another cough exited his body. And another one.

"Excuse me," He managed.

I pursed my lips. "Shawn, all you all right?"

He nodded in response, dropping his fork to the table with a clang as one hand blindly searched the table for his coffee, the other covering his mouth politely as he continued to hack.

"When I said it looked like inhaling, it wasn't a command," I joked lightly as I nudged his coffee cup toward his hand in aid, and he nodded again, this time in thanks, as he raised the steaming cup to his lips, taking two long sips before his body lurched forward, letting out another harsh cough and littering the table top with droplets of dark coffee. He didn't seem to notice the fact that everyone had turned to stare at the commotion. Or he didn't care. Or he couldn't care. His face was slightly red now.

"Shawn," I whispered numbly, "I think you're choking!"

"No shit, Sherlock!" He gasped. His face had tints of purple in it now. I glanced down at the remaining eggs. This was totally their fault.

"Hey," I looked up to see the man from the booth behind us, pointing his thumb at Shawn. "This dude…This guy is choking, he doesn't look to good Bernie," he nodded to his friend in a thick, Brooklyn accent, before turning to the rest of the customers. "Does anyone know the Heimlich maneuver?"

Oh shit. Is that what Shawn needed? I knew how to do that. Learned it years ago…but I couldn't find it in me to move. All I could do was stare. Shawn sat across from me, heaving and sputtering to try to dislodge the egg from his throat, with little success. I should help…I needed to help…oh shit, oh shit… what was I supposed to do again? The CPR maneuver? That doesn't sound right. Not at all. Oh shit. He was thoroughly purple now, eyes bulging…

Oh shit.


	5. Did I Say Worried?

Sorry for the shorter chapter. its a build up. i promise the next one will be longer. Cant promise when that will be though..damn school..  
I'm sure there will be a lot of critism on this one. im sick, im tired, its 1:35 am..im paraniod my dad will bust in here and..bust me for being up still lol. but feel free to leave some. i appreciate it.  
enough rambling...!

It's been almost a minute and he still is struggling for his breath. This past minute- wasted. I know what to do, I know I can, but I can't. What if I hurt him? I'm bigger than he is. So easily could I crack a rib of his, doing that thing…I have to do. To him. Oh God. If I did, that would involve a lot of bodily contact. Oh Shawn. Oh God. Oh shit.

I blinked slowly. Behind my eyelids, it was dark, safe. A movie was rolling, and odd one. my fist, coming down with force, striking his chest. Someone yelled.

The film ceases and I can see again, I'm on my feet. I don't remember how I got there, or getting up, but I'm lightheaded. I can feel my arms sliding around his midsection, but I don't remember my mind instructing it to do so. My hands locked around where I could feel the indent of his navel, pulling him out of his seat, and, using my height advantage, I simultaneously pulled Shawn off his feet into the air, and crashing towards myself. I heard a soft grunt, and the coughing ceased, but I still didn't feel any rise in his chest.

"Do it again!" An on looker yelled, anxious. My worry increased; I didn't want to hurt Shawn whatsoever, but I obliged, roughly jerking his body towards mine as we collided again, feeling him tense underneath me as I followed up with number three, and the third time's the charm.

The now mangled piece of egg came projecting out of his mouth, escorted by a cough so hard it hurt my own throat. Shawn fell limp in my arms, worn out and in shock.

I cast a glance over at our audience, a teenager with a cell phone out catching my eye. Damn, that wouldn't look to good, and I'm almost positive it will be all over the internet in less than an hour…damn it. We have to get out of here.

I hoisted Shawn over my shoulder, glad once again that I was taller than he, and ran out the door, away from the prying eyes and hushed whispers. I needed to get him to his hotel room, and check him out, worried that I had hurt him. All I could hear from him were groans.

I sprinted faster across the traffic lane than I had the first time, surprising since I had a 200 pound man on my back. I heard when panic sets in, adrenaline replaces fear and weakness. I guess it's true.

As I entered the Hilton again, I was faced with the sudden dilemma. I could take the stairs, avoiding any questions that would arise from others using the elevator, but could I carry Shawn up the six flights of stairs? Damn it.

I slung Shawn down off my shoulders, wrapping my arm around his side to keep him balanced. He was awake, muttering small nothings and still coughing here and there, but seemed more or less disoriented. Together we walked back to the stairs. I'd carry him up if I had to.

"Shawn, can you get up the stairs?" I whispered into his ear. He whimpered in response, but his eyes bright and alert, which calmed me. His throat is probably just really sore now. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily, cheeks tinting pinkish.

"This is no time to be embarrassed now, Shawn," I chuckled. He sighed again. He was still shaken up over the whole thing, I could tell by the nervous twitch in his fingers. So this time I didn't ask; I scooped him up in my arms, and started jogging up the stairs two at a time. His oceanic blue eyes never strayed from my face once.

I huffed my way up the last flight of stairs, my arms screaming for me to let go of Shawn, my mind saying otherwise. A sense of almost sick pleasure washed through me as I realized I almost liked Shawn being weakened and hurt, as long as I got to hold him in my arms. My God.

At the top of the stairs, I tipped my arms out and let him down. His feet hit the ground, and he swayed, causing me to wrap my around his waist again. He wrapped his arm around mine with a frustrated sigh- I let out a happy one.

We walked side by side in silence down the hall way, my heart thudding dully in my chest. I'm walking arm-to-waist down the hallway with Shawn Michaels, and he's letting me do it. Granted, he almost just suffocated via egg, by whose counting the small details? We finally reached his door, kicking it open in one swift motion, and leading Shawn over towards the bed. "Go lay down," I said, pointing to the bed. He grinned.

"Oh Randy," He rasped, "Isn't it more proper to have a date first?" He followed with a tired grin.

Only Shawn…

I pushed him lightly down, making sure he was laying, then stalked off to the kitchen and set the teapot on. The state of his voice was making my own voice box ache. I remembered when my brother, Nathan, had choked on an apple when he was nine. Dad had freaked out, and had pounded his chest mercilessly until the foreign object was ejected. I had yelled at him for hitting Nate, not knowing he was trying to save my brother's life… I had seen them go rounds before. Of course, Dad always won.

_"You're hurtin' him, Dad! Stop!"_

"Randal, move," He commanded, fist coming down hard against Nate's chest again as he sputtered.

"You're hurting him!" I squealed back.

"I'm saving him Randy."

"Liar!"

The hand in half way to Nate's chest changed direction. Before I could comprehend, I was crumpled on the floor, my hand pinching my nostrils together in attempt to stop the slow tickle of red fluid .They wouldn't be happy if I stained the floor.

I stared unblinkingly at the shag carpet, afraid to close my eyes, afraid what would be playing behind them. Dad and Nate had left a while ago, to get Nate checked out by the doctor. They left me here. "Don't talk to your father like that, boy."

The sudden jingle of keys made me flinch. The click of heels on the linoleum made me relax. Mom was home.

Oh God. Mom was home.

I'd just tell her the neighbor's kid did it. Like always.

I heard her drop the bags of groceries. "Randy? Randy!" 

"Randy?"

The unexpected touch caused me to gasp, whipping around with fists clenched. Shawn jumped back, hands in the air, wide-eyed expression on his face.

"Whoa, sorry man, I just…um…" he nibbled on his lip for a moment. "Just wanted to see if you were okay."

I opened my mouth to respond, before closing it and staring at him for a moment. Then I just laughed at him. "Me? You're asking how I am? That's so messed up. You're the one that just choked! And you should be laying down!"

He looked down at his feet, clearing his throat. He still sounded a little worse for wear. "Forget about me for a second, Randy…you sounded…weird out here. Like, you were…whimpering or something, I thought maybe you burned yourself or something, I don't know…just checking…" He scratched the back of his head.

Shit. How would I explain- the teapot just went off. Oh thank God. I shuffled quickly over to it, not responding to Shawn, who was still standing there. I busied myself with preparing his tea for his aching throat, adding in some of my own favorite ingredients: milk, a pinch of cinnamon, a lot of honey…soothes the sore trachea for sure. It's what I made myself the day before I joined the WWE, when I practiced my mic skills in front of a mirror for hours on end. Good stuff.

I stirred his tea, feeling him still behind me. Kind of making me uncomfortable. His eyes were so piercing, it's like I shouldn't have to tell him anything. He should just read my mind.

I took a deep breath, grabbing the cup, and turned around. I felt a squeeze around my middle, which confused me at first. I looked down, seeing Shawn's arms wrapped around my waist made my heart flutter. His eyes locked with mine, and he squeaked out: "Thanks…for saving me." He squeezed a little tighter.

I pulled him up higher, getting him away from my midsection before an organ other than my heart started to react, and hugged him around his neck. "Anytime, Shawn. Just don't do it again. Ever."

He chuckled, releasing me. "Deal." He took the tea out of my hand, taking a long draw from it. He cleared his throat again, smiling. "That's really good…anyways, I'm not gonna let this stop us tonight. I say we still go out."

"Where?"

"It's a surprise." He winked. I'm worried.

He turned to leave the room. I slumped down into one of the kitchen chairs, fingers rubbing furiously at my tired eyes. I need sleep. I get stupid when I don't sleep.

"Oh, one more thing," I glanced up, seeing Shawn's face, stretched wide into a grin, peering around the wall, "I get to dress you for it."

Did I say worried? I meant terrified.

__________________________________________________

Oh I'd be scared too. Review? =]]


End file.
